


Sometimes

by ChaoticNachoKitten



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Self-Harm, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24275281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticNachoKitten/pseuds/ChaoticNachoKitten
Summary: Most of the time Adore is fine, but sometimes she's not. Angsty Biadore oneshot.
Relationships: Bianca Del Rio & Danny Noriega | Adore Delano
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there^-^
> 
> TW for mild self harm and eating disorders. I tried to keep the descriptions as vague as possible, but please do not read it if anything might trigger you. I tried to write something a little bit different, and I honestly have no idea whether it turned out okay, so as always, any kind of feedback is very much appreciated.^-^ Also on artificialqueens on tumblr:)

Most of the time Adore is fine. Most of the time she is a completely functional individual who can take care of herself and is able to deal with problems and inconveniences on her own and in a responsible way. Most of the time she is happy, loud, energetic, a social butterfly, and a great, supportive friend who makes sure everyone around her is happy.

Sometimes, however, things are a little different.   
Sometimes she feels like she doesn’t have control over her mind anymore, rather it controls her and watches her every move, which includes deciding what she gets to say. On her bad days, Adore doesn’t really talk about her feelings, simply because she just can’t, as much as she wants to. Instead, her mind is racing, too many thoughts at once, and she isn’t able to form a single coherent sentence. And even on the rare occasions where she is, in fact, able to do so, her head still won’t let her speak. It will always find a way to get her to stay quiet. For example, the words will just come out as a quiet mumble or just get stuck in her throat, which she sometimes could feel physically, though the only sound people around her are able to hear is her quietly clearing her throat.

As a result, Adore had to express herself and her feelings differently, and that was a real challenge. The signs of her not feeling well were fairly subtle and often missed by everyone around her. It also didn’t help at all that she would often still smile and act happy when she was clearly hurting.

Sometimes Adore would just not have the energy and motivation to get up. On days like those, she would just wake up, mind dark, deep and heavy, racing and thinking, criticizing for every possible thing, which was both upsetting and exhausting. Unable to fight the demons, and with her energy drained already, she would end up staring blankly at the ceiling, just listening to her head and slowly starting to believe what it said. In moments like those she was unable to get out of her head on her own if she was in too deep.

Sometimes eating was a struggle for her, sometimes it felt just like a chore. Occasionally her head would start to create negative thoughts about eating well before she was even going to do so, and if she managed to ignore it, the thoughts would come back with a lot more intensity to the point where she would just look at whatever she was going to eat, unable to look away and anxiously chewing on her petal shaped lips. Her mind was split into two halves. The dark and scary, the sick one wanted nothing more than to get away from it, scaring her with thoughts of what could happen if she disobeyed, calculating and afterwards telling her why she could definitely not eat. It also tried to convince her that that gross feeling she’d experience after eating was just not worth it. The other one, the rational part of her brain told her that eating was good, healthy and necessary as she needed the energy to perform and just in general, live. The voices were swirling around, creating a complex swirl of thoughts. Perfection, health, looks, goals. What of that even mattered? On days like those, she would just end up sitting down somewhere where she felt safe, shaking and trying to reclaim control over her racing mind, tired of fighting the negative voices, just wanting everything to go away.

Sometimes she would feel the need to take a long, good look at herself in her giant mirror, which was never a good idea. Soon, she would start to criticize herself, examining ever tiny flaw, every imperfection she needed to fix. Her head would immediately start to come up with ideas on how to deal with and fix everything, though none of them would sound healthy to a ‘normal’ person. (But what qualifies as ‘normal’, anyway?) She would often lose track of the time, wanting to take a look at herself for a couple of minutes turned into two hours of her mental state getting progressively worse as time went by, to the point where she would just stare into the mirror, expression unreadable like she was in another universe or in a state of trance, subconsciously biting her nails nervously as a way to deal with the stress, tears silently running down her cheeks, each of them going unrecognized, dripping on the floor.

Sometimes she would struggle to go outside. Especially after a session of looking in the mirror she would get so insecure about her face and body that trying to be okay with the thought of others seeing her was nearly impossible. On the one hand, she would crave going outside to appreciate nature as it helped her to forget everything for a bit, but on the other hand, once she actually was outside taking a walk, she would feel the panic rise, making her want to run back into her apartment. Instead, she would continue walking, fixing her clothes every couple of minutes so they wouldn’t make her look any more unflattering, and subtly try to focus on something else instead of the random strangers looking at her. Sometimes looking at the ground helped to calm her down, but most of the time she ended up using pain as a way to focus, either pinching herself or using her nails. On really bad days, neither of those methods would be effective though, she simply couldn’t stay outside for more than around fifteen minutes before essentially running back inside, collapsing on the floor, feeling a panic attack taking over with overwhelming intensity.

Sometimes she would question her singing talent and entire career. Often, it would start with something tiny and innocent like getting a word wrong while singing, her voice cracking or lyrics she wrote that didn’t sound amazing. The rational part of her brain knew that those weren’t things to even worry about, but when she questioned herself, she didn’t listen to that part, instead letting the other part be in charge. The more she thought about it, the worse whatever had gone wrong seemed to get. Soon it wasn’t just a slip of the tongue anymore, she probably just messed up the lyrics all the time without even realizing anymore. Soon, her voice didn’t just crack because she was using it for too long trying to get her singing to be perfect, instead it was evidence that she just couldn’t sing and should just stop with her music career, if it could even be called like that. Soon, it wasn’t just a line in a song that didn’t match up with the rest, instead the whole project was terrible and she often found herself rewriting the entire song, just so her mind would shut up and her fans wouldn’t be disappointed, even if that meant staying up all night when she had to perform the next day.  
Sometimes she didn’t want to acknowledge the limits of her body and would instead try to ignore and move past them, especially when she was practicing for a performance. Over time she had become an expert of not listening to her body, whether that meant exercising until she literally passed out on the floor, writing lyrics until her wrist was hurting to the point where she couldn’t move it anymore without wincing, or singing until her voice just gave out, making her throat hurt, every word feeling like hell, but even then she wasn’t able to stop herself from those destructive actions. She simply needed to give it her all in order to become the best version of herself, the closest thing she could be to being perfect.

Sometimes, especially after reading nasty comments about her online, Adore would find herself unable to fall asleep, her mind going absolutely insane, trying to analyze everything she did wrong. Had that performance been too messy? Was she still interesting enough? Did her fans still love her? Was her singing still as good as it once had been? Did that outfit make her look bad? Were the comments true? Adore had two options in situations like these. She could either at least try to get comfortable in her bed to at least get a sense of relaxation to some extent if her mind wouldn’t let her sleep- if that could even be called relaxation. It was more like trying to ignore the world around her while squeezing her eyes shut and covering her ears, as if that would do anything. She couldn’t shut the voices up like that, they were inside her head, unwilling to leave. Her preferred option was to go for a run, no matter how late it was. In fact, the later, the better as she would be mostly alone then, giving her the chance to actually clear her head instead of worrying what other people thought of her. And even though she was exhausted from the long day she had had, she was always down for a run because the voice criticizing her body would calm down a tiny bit to a manageable level during the running and even for a short time after.

Sometimes her negative thoughts would just not leave her alone, instead they would still plague her in the form of nightmares so horrible that she would thrash, cry and scream for help, though unable to wake herself up. At times, especially when she was extremely stressed and overwhelmed she feared going to sleep, contemplating just staying awake as those nightmares would do absolutely nothing for regaining her much needed energy since she was getting worked up while experiencing them.  
Eventually, someone started to notice her bad days and what signs indicated them, that person being none other than Bianca. And after a while of trying out different things, Bianca had figured out different ways to help Adore without making her talk about her problems as the talking-about-it part seemed to be the problem. Instead she made sure to stay by Adore’s side whenever she clearly clearly needed help, which often led to them both being around each other close to 24/7 until Adore was back to her usual self.

When she saw Adore struggling to get up, she knew she had to do something quickly because the chances of getting her to start the day were extremely slim once Adore would start to stare at the ceiling. And when she did that, it was hard to get her out of her mind enough to even talk at all. The most effective way to break the train of her thoughts were quite simple though.   
Gentle morning cuddles and soft kisses all over Adore’s face in bed were usually the best thing, combined with a good tv show in the background or some music to distract Adore from thinking too much. Usually the two of them didn’t need to talk, feeling each other’s presence and the physical touching would be enough. Afterwards Adore would feel better, experiencing that warm and fuzzy feeling you get inside when you feel safe and protected from the world, and as a result she would usually agree to at least give the day a chance of turning out to be good. And even if the day didn’t turn out well, she knew that Bianca would always be there to help and cheer her up.

When Adore just stared at her food, expression slowly turning from neutral to scared and eventually completely and utterly terrified as well as her entire body trembling, Bianca would hold her hand to break the train of thoughts Adore was probably going through, as well as giving her something positive to focus on instead. Sometimes this would work extremely well and Adore would only need a tiny bit of convincing to start eating, but even if it was a particularly bad day, Bianca would succeed with a lot of physical affection, whether that meant hugging, kissing or just Adore sitting on her lap, and of course tons of encouraging words, reasons why eating wasn’t optional and reassurances. 

When Adore was taking too long ‘just quickly checking her outfit’ aka rapidly falling into her destructive thoughts, green eyes looking glossy, pupils dilated with too many emotions at once, and completely unaware of everything around her, Bianca would turn her away from the mirror and start wiping Adore’s tears to get her out of that harmful headspace. Once Adore was actually aware of everything again, all of her positive traits would be listed in order to show her that there were, in fact many amazing things that she failed to or refused to recognize herself, which created a balance inside Adore’s head that was a lot healthier. For every thing she disliked about herself, Bianca said something positive that Adore would have never thought about, especially not in a mindset that was purely existing in order to bring her down.

When Adore just wouldn’t stop pulling on her clothes to fix them in a nervous manner, which mostly happened when they were outside during the day and a lot of strangers were around them, helping her was not that easy, but still possible. Bianca would assure her that she looked fine and nothing was wrong with her clothes or body, as well as reminding her to breathe calmly, quietly of course, drawing attention from strangers wasn’t exactly what they needed in those situations. If that alone wasn’t enough to stop Adore’s anxious actions, Bianca would just use a slightly less subtle method, and take Adore’s hand, intertwining their fingers, and gently rubbing the back of it, in order to both keep her from fidgeting as well as to calm her down a bit without having to communicate with words.

When Adore was getting frustrated with her skills as a musician (or the lack thereof on her opinion), going through various states of nervousness, sadness, frustration, disappointment and anger, questioning herself and her abilities, on some occasions even her self worth, getting caught up in tiny imperfections that no one would notice, but to her were a big deal, anxiously writing and delete everything again, practicing songs until her voice was completely raw, Bianca would sit Adore down and try to find out which exact thoughts were causing the massive self doubt. Instead of trying to get Adore to talk about it though, she would just calm her down before offering her something to write down her thoughts, giving Adore the opportunity to allow herself to let all the pain, all negative feelings pour out on the paper, occasionally even in the form of lyrics. Sometimes, simply writing down everything without showing it to Bianca was enough to calm her down enough to regain some control over her mind, but Adore often was in too deep, believing everything her inner critic would tell her without questioning anything or trying to look at things from a different perspective. And Bianca would just do that, reassuring Adore and showing her different perspectives on how to deal with it and how to question negative thoughts that weren’t helpful.

When Adore was overworking herself to the point of damaging her health in different ways, sometimes as far as running a fever from pure exhaustion and still not accepting that she desperately needed a break or she would risk serious long-term damage, just wanting to be perfect, Bianca had to get her out of her head and basically save Adore from herself. She used to try to talk Adore out of further damage, when that didn’t have any effect whatsoever because Adore was virtually in a scary kind of trance she couldn’t get out of on her own, which was problematic. Bianca had discovered the most effective thing one day after feeling completely helpless when just nothing she tried would even be acknowledged by Adore, so in a desperate attempt to help her she had just grabbed her by the arm, pulling her in the bathroom (with surprisingly and worryingly no protest whatsoever) and into the shower, turning it on, making sure it was cold enough to get a reaction, but not freezing to the point where it would be icy. Adore’s eyes had visibly changed back from the dull, panicked ones to her usual beautiful light green sparkly ones. The cool sensation actually felt somewhat relieving and calming, even while being fully dressed, and she was able to cry until the tension was gone. 

When Adore was unable to go to sleep because she couldn’t stop thinking about things that were impossible to change anyway, unable to voice her concerns, fidgeting and moving around anxiously, getting back up and ready to go outside on her own in hopes to clear her head, Bianca would pull her back, making sure she was comfortable before starting to talk about random things while stroking Adore’s head topics being nothing important, but still, or maybe that’s exactly why, Adore would listen, calmed by Bianca’s voice, focusing on her words and touch instead of her own thoughts, at least try to until she felt her eyelids grow heavy and she would offer Bianca a silent ‘thank you, I love you’ in the form of a small but utterly grateful smile that would always be returned.

When Adore was plagued by her nightmares that sadly occurred way too often, crying with closed eyes, screaming for help, reaching out for someone to save her from the demons inside of her, Bianca would usually wake up pretty quickly, and then try two different things to help Adore. Depending on how severe Adore’s nightmare was, she would either just hold her in her arms without waking her up, because Adore didn’t really sleep enough anyway, quietly talking to her and telling her everything would be okay while wiping her tears. But sometimes it just wouldn’t be enough and Bianca would be forced to wake Adore up. She would often be in a state similar to a panic attack however, breathing way too fast and shallow, terrified and not aware yet that she was safe and being taken care of. Nights like these would include going through breathing exercises and end with Adore’s head in Bianca’s lap, feeling safe, slowly growing tired again, trying to stop fighting the feeling because the rational part of her brain knew that the nightmares, no matter how bed they were and felt, couldn’t physically harm her and Bianca was by her side and had promised to wake her up again if necessary. And in nights like those Adore would finally be able to talk. Not a lot, but three words before entering dream world.

“I love you.”


End file.
